


Through A Window Or A Door

by gala_apples



Category: South Park
Genre: Best Friends, Caught, Exhibitionism, In Public, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clyde likes to do things in public, where he'll get caught. More often than not he'll get caught by someone who cares. It's better when they care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through A Window Or A Door

There are a few things Clyde learned when he was nine that are still relevant these days.

One: he’s still the second fattest kid in school. Although that might have been a third grade thing. Sometimes it hard to keep it all straight, thinking back on it. He’ll never be Cartman fat, but he’s big. He makes big look good, because

Two: he’s still the hottest guy. Bebe and Red and the rest don’t make their ranking lists anymore, at least as far as Clyde knows. That doesn’t matter though, because females aren’t who Clyde’s looking to impress. He’s a Grade A cocksucker. But it’s not as bad as it could be, because

Three: for a redneck shithole insane asylum town, Southpark has kind of a lot of LGBT people. Not just the old gays, although Mr Slave and Al have been going strong for almost a decade. There are a lot of guys his age in South Park willing to fuck guys as long as no one calls them gay. That suits Clyde’s needs perfectly. It will until he gets caught and the guy flips out about being outed and they have to brawl and no other closet cases will trust him. At that point he’ll go back to Kenny, the sole proudly out bisexual under twenty. Then everyone will calm down, and Clyde’ll go back to fucking horny bi-curious boys. It’s a cycle he’s been through multiple times. No one ever really learns. No one ever stays away from the sexy fat boy who wants to fuck in semi-secluded areas. 

Which brings him to lesson four. It’s nothing to do with him specifically, it’s a general standard in South Park. 

Four: you only have power if you’re noticeable. That’s why Craig hates Stan and Kyle and Kenny and Cartman so intensely. They do things like start a band and wind up kidnapped by Homeland Security and exiled to Peru. They run the town without even trying. Clyde doesn’t hate them at all. He’s just aware that he can probably never get on their level. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t try.

Everyone in South Park has their own way of trying to get their moment in the spotlight. It could be argued that that’s exactly why South Park is batshit crazy; because Ms Choksondik sees Mephesto sew another ass to something and make the paper and retaliates by deciding to write a sex ed book with Mr Mackey, because Mr Slave doesn’t like Paris Hilton and challenges her to a whore-off. Everyone’s addicted to attention. They have been since actual God descended from the heavens only to tell Stan that boys don’t get periods. Maybe before that. Clyde’s no different. None of his friends are any different. Craig hates Cartman’s gang and their mad attention seeking, but that doesn’t stop him from having the world record in flipping people off. Tweek’s a teenage sketchbag addict. Token is the richest kid in South Park, and makes it even more obvious by occasionally pretending to be low class.

That’s why tonight’s party is in Token’s mansion, Tweek’s drinking a kahlua and coffee, and Craig’s already getting into an argument with some ninth grader. They all know their angles, ways that they might get talked about Monday morning, if Kyle doesn’t get cloned or Stan doesn’t start his own zoo or some shit.

It ends up being Alex Anderson that pins him to the wall in the second floor rec room. On a guys night when it’s the four of them, and sometimes Jimmy and sometimes Jason, it’s where they usually end up. There’s a pool table, and a big tv, and a bunch of bean bag chairs. But it’s empty now. There’s a bigger pool table downstairs that’s closer to the booze that holds people’s attention. 

Alex is drunk enough to not care that Clyde leaves the door open. Or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t think it’s a problem. Realistically, it’s probably not. This place is huge, and only Token and Craig and Tweek will look for him. There’s enough of a chance that it get Clyde’s libedo going, but it’s unlikely that junior investigator Wendy Testaburger will going to find them.

Alex is sober enough to get the lubricated condom on, and to get Clyde’s baggy jeans shoved down. Then, with no fanfare whatsoever he’s pushing inside. If Clyde hadn’t fingered himself in one of the first floor bathrooms while half the party was lined up to piss it would hurt. Luckily he was a man with a plan; a plan to get fucked. It’s not quite as smooth as milk, but it’s not painful.

Alex is a big guy too, tall enough to put his chin on the top of Clyde’s head if he wanted to. He doesn’t get that close, choosing instead to plant a hand against the wall on either side of Clyde’s head. That’s fine though. Clyde has a whole host of ways for the judging public to know what he’s done, running from messing up his hair so it looks like it was grabbed during oral, to walking with his legs a little bowed. Sometimes that’s not even an exaggeration. Jason is kind of massive.

His stomach compresses against the cornflower blue drywall as Alex fucks him. Every rock of the hips has his fat moving, belly tight against the wall on the thrust, hanging looser when Alex pulls back and Clyde’s ass instinctively chases him. He could control himself better, if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to. Clyde loves getting fucked; it’s the best part of the weekend. At parties, usually, but he finds other ways when no one’s hosting anything. Craigslist, texting, Kenny if worse comes to worst and there’s absolutely no one available. Clyde’s not a classist asshole, he doesn’t think that Kenny has diseases just because he’s poor. It’s just no one is surprised when Kenny gets caught fucking someone at Stark’s Pond. That’s how Kenny McCormick rolls. No one caring takes off some of the edge.

Clyde doesn’t try to muffle his groaning. They probably can’t be heard down the hall, never mind downstairs where the party is raging, but Clyde keeps his eyes closed and imagines that any second now Butters is going to wander in, horribly lost in Token’s mansion, and stammer ridiculously. Fuck, that would be _so hot_ , if he could make Butters blush.

Alex stops fucking him all of a sudden. Clyde resists the urge to elbow him in the ribs. Instead he just directs “dude, what? Keep going.”

“No. Leave,” says a third voice coldly. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise it as Craig.

Alex rebels against Craig’s order. He resumes fucking him, much to Clyde’s relief. “Uh, no? I’m balls deep.”

“Fuck off.”

“Ahh!” Tweek contributes. Because of course Tweek followed Craig. The only question is if Token’s with them at the edge of the room too. 

Clyde clenches with dirty thrill around the next thrust. At least two, and possibly more, of his friends are watching him get fucked by a massive senior. Hell, for all Clyde knows half the party followed Token and Craig. He refuses to turn his head to fact check. It’s better not knowing.

“I will fuck you up,” Craig threatens.

“Oh Jesus!”

Alex thrusts once more, then his left hand moves from the wall to the crack of Clyde’s ass. “I can’t do this with them watching.”

Clyde laughs. He can’t do this any other way. Alex pulls out, giving Clyde the room to turn around. He does just in time to see Alex defiantly toss the used condom onto the carpet as he leaves. Craig flips him off, then slams the door behind him, so they can have some privacy. Token’s not with Craig and Tweek, which should make this conversation interesting. Token’s generally the calming, rational influence in the group.

“You need to stop doing this shit.”

Clyde shrugs at Craig. “Cartman needs to stop trying to make ten million dollars.”

“You are not those assholes.”

“Cartman- Ahh! Is a sociopath. Oh Jesus!” Tweek tugs a lock of hair.

“People think you’re a slut.”

Clyde shrugs again. “At least they’re thinking about me.”

“You’re so stupid.”

“Whatever. Go away, I want to jerk off.” Getting fucked was good. Getting caught was great. Getting his honour defended, or something close enough to pass for it, was nothing short of warm and fuzzy and spectacular. There’s no way he can last the night without jerking off, and why bother hurting himself by shoving his erection back into his jeans until he finds the nearest bathroom?

“You’re a manipulative asshat.”

Clyde smiles to himself. On the Craig Tucker scale that’s lower than asshole. Craig’s mad, but not too mad. “I’m not doing anything.”

To his surprise it’s Tweek that replies. He starts pulling on his hair, but otherwise stays pretty calm. Relatively speaking. “You’re telling us to go but you want us to stay and you want us to jerk you off because if you didn’t you wouldn’t have said it like that. You’re manipulating us yes, yes you are. And that’s so much pressure!”

Clyde shrugs. “I could never say I don’t want to fucked by you. Both of you. But getting caught by you is better, and that already happened.”

Craig shakes his head. “Sometimes I think you’re one of them.”

“Dude, we’re all one of them. Probably even if we go to Denver, or out of state. We’ll always be South Parkers.”

Tweek shudders. “We’ve brewed too long here to ever taste normal. Oh Jesus!”

“So fuck me or don’t, your call, but you’re hottest when you come looking for me. I’m never not gonna like you three noticing me.”

“Fuck.” Craig flips him off, then steps in for a kiss. Clyde smiles before he opens his mouth, before he can feel Tweek’s hand on the dimple of his back. Weekends kick ass.


End file.
